Darkness Visible Revisited
by MW
Summary: Hercules and Iolaus meet Dracula -- an alternate version of the sixth season episode
1. Default Chapter

Darkness Visible Revisited  
by Martha Wilson  
  
  
Author's note: I originally thought I could do this as a "missing  
scenes" story. But while I enjoyed this episode I realized I did want  
to fix a number of things about it, including Hercules and Iolaus  
wandering through the snow bare-chested, camping in a field of impaled  
dead guys, the blatant rip-off of the movie Blade etc. So I rewrote  
almost the whole darn thing. Thanks to Liz Sharpe and Carolyn  
Golledge. We came up with this concept together and did an outline at  
MediaWest 2000, very late one night shortly after evicting a glow-in-  
the-dark skeleton from the room.  
  
http://www.rtis.com/nat/user/chimera/legends.htm  
The Less Than Legendary Journeys  
  
  
***  
  
As night closed in on the snowy mountain pass, the gray clouds  
thickened and mist obscured the distant crag-perched castle that marked  
their goal. Balanced up on a rock to observe the trail ahead, Iolaus  
glanced back down to where the others were making camp. Hercules was  
moving around securing the hide tents by pushing the wooden stakes into  
the frozen ground. Despite his own mostly frozen condition, Iolaus  
smiled to himself. _One of those times having a demigod around comes  
in handy._   
  
Iolaus pushed to his feet, scrambling down the icy rock, and jumped to  
land in a snow drift. Galen, the half-Greek strygoi-hunter, was trying  
to get a fire started while Vlad's chamberlain Mattias dug into the  
supply packs for dinner. Iolaus grimaced at the thought of another  
meal of dried frostbitten meat. Dacia wasn't a frozen wasteland like  
Norseland; even in this rocky mountain pass the slopes were covered  
with pines and winter-bare trees, with streams trickling down the  
rocks. But they had seen no game except for a few straggly crows not  
much bigger than a mouthful or two. If it took much longer to reach  
Vlad's fortress, the gnomes they saw occasionally -- peering red-eyed  
at them from tree stumps or clumps of bracken -- were going to need to  
watch their furry little backs. _There has to be something  
somewhere,_ Iolaus thought glumly, stamping through the snow toward  
their tent. It was as if the animals had fled the strygoi just as the  
humans had. Though every evening as the sun set they heard wolves  
howling in the distance.  
  
Iolaus plopped down beside Hercules, who had taken a seat at the front  
of their tent to study the map they had picked up back at the port of  
Varna. Mattias, of course, knew the way, but there was something about  
the guy that wasn't quite right. And after Sumeria, they were both  
ultra-sensitive to Not-Quite-Right people who wanted them to go on  
mysterious errands. _But this is different,_ Iolaus reminded himself.   
Vlad Tepes was an old friend and word of the strygoi plague had been  
all over the port. The deserted villages they had passed on the way  
here had told their own tale. Nobody was lying about that, at least.   
"My ass is freezing," Iolaus commented.  
  
"Uh huh." Since most of their conversations lately had started out  
that way, Hercules just nodded.   
  
Iolaus rolled his eyes. Hercules had a demigodly resistance to cold  
and wore only a fur-trimmed leather coat over his normal clothes.   
Iolaus wore a wool shirt, a sheepskin jacket, and gloves and he was  
still freezing. He leaned over to look at the map. "Where are we?"  
  
"Right around here." Hercules flattened the square of bleached leather  
against his knee, pointing to a spot among the mountains drawn in brown  
and black ink. He squinted, translating the squiggly writing above it.   
"The Borgo Pass."  
  
"Huh." Iolaus glanced up. His gaze crossed Mattias' where the other  
man sat on the far side of the clearing beside the fire. The  
chamberlain stared at them, his scarred face somber, as if the sight of  
the two Greek warriors with their heads together over the map was  
somehow menacing. He met Iolaus' eyes, then looked away without  
changing expression. Galen, who had made it plain he was here only to  
kill strygoi and search for his missing sister, might be a loud-mouth,  
but Iolaus liked his company better. He nudged Hercules with an elbow,  
calling attention to Mattias, and asked softly, "Did you get anything  
more out of him about...what we found yesterday?  
  
Hercules shook his head, his eyes lifting to thoughtfully study the  
other man. Mattias turned back to the supplies as Galen made some  
sneering comment to him. Mattias and the strygoi-hunter hadn't gotten  
along since Galen had joined them in Varna, but relations hadn't  
exactly improved after the strygoi had killed Galen's friend Darius  
yesterday. It was where Darius had been killed that Iolaus wanted to  
know more about.  
  
The muddy snowfield filled with impaled corpses was more like something  
you would see in the Horde's wake. It had been rank with the smell of  
death despite the cold; Mattias's claim that Vlad was responsible had  
made Iolaus even colder.  
  
They had come upon the place close to nightfall and had pushed on past  
it as far as they could before the darkness forced them to stop. Even  
though Dacians didn't believe they had to be properly buried for their  
souls to reach the afterlife, Iolaus still thought such a scene of  
violent death had to be lousy with angry shades. Since Iolaus had been  
a shade himself for a while this wasn't as nervous a prospect as it  
would have been a few years ago, but strygoi tended to frequent the  
same spots. That had been demonstrated last night, when Darius had had  
guard duty and been caught by a hunting strygoi.   
  
Hercules folded up the map, his face troubled. "He still says that  
Vlad did it and that those men were border raiders."  
  
Iolaus lifted his brows. "And do we believe that?"  
  
"That's not the Vlad we know." Hercules glanced at him. "Let's say  
I'm looking forward to hearing his side of it."  
  
"Yeah." If Vlad had changed that much.... Iolaus shook his head. He  
still couldn't see it. Not honorable, fun-loving, gung-ho, Vlad  
"Romans! I spit on Romans!" Tepes. Not wanting to think about it  
anymore, he turned and ducked under the flap of the low tent.   
Wrestling with the hide groundcover and the fur blankets piled inside,  
he said, "I'm going to sleep until it's time for my watch."   
  
Hercules leaned down to look in, brows quirking. "Don't you want me to  
wake you for dinner?" Iolaus' opinions on their food supply were well  
known.  
  
"Very funny." Iolaus managed to get the groundcover unrolled and  
stretched out on it. Pulling his pack around for a pillow and  
wriggling to get comfortable, he said, "If we don't reach the castle  
tomorrow, how do you like your gnome, roasted or boiled?"  
  
Turning around, Hercules chuckled, then thought about it for a moment  
and peered back inside the tent. "You're kidding, right? Iolaus?"   
  
***  
  
  
By sunset the next day they had reached the foot of a broad wagon  
track. It curved further up the mountain to where the shape of the  
castle was silhouetted against the reddening sky. Mattias said it was  
only another couple of hours walk, so they pushed on after dark.   
  
Travelling at night in strygoi territory was tense enough and the rocky  
trail was icy and dangerous. Mattias carried the torch and they picked  
their way along, wary of the deep shadows among the boulders and the  
looming dead trees. Iolaus was relieved when they made their way  
around a curve in the trail and he saw the flicker of firelight limning  
the walls of the castle, the lamps in the windows hanging in the dark  
like stars.  
  
The road got wider, the snow stamped down into mud by the passage of  
many feet. The torches along the crenelations provided just enough  
light for Iolaus to tell the man-made stones from the natural ones.   
The fortress was woven in with the rocks, its walls augmented by sheer  
cliffs and its sentry towers perched on crags.   
  
Passing under the first tower, Iolaus stopped, staring up at it. It  
was a little octagonal structure only about twenty feet above their  
heads and the torches inside threw yellow light up onto the carved  
gargoyles clinging to the conical slate roof. Hercules stopped beside  
him and they exchanged a puzzled look, though both could barely see  
each other's features in the dark.   
  
Breathing hard from the climb, Galen stopped beside them. "What?" he  
demanded.  
  
"Nobody's inside," Iolaus answered, still staring suspiciously up at  
the little tower. Hercules turned, looking toward the other watch  
towers set higher in the cliffs above them. All were torchlit but no  
curious faces peered out, nobody called down to them. The first layer  
of the castle's defenses was deserted.  
  
Galen looked accusingly at Mattias as the chamberlain joined them.   
"What's the deal with this?" he asked. "Where is everybody?"  
  
Mattias shrugged and stamped past them, his eyes on the gates ahead.   
"They're inside."  
  
All three men stared after him. "Okay," Hercules said under his  
breath. He glanced down at Iolaus and gave that slight shrug that  
meant that this didn't make sense but there was no help for it now,  
then started after Mattias.  
  
"Yeah," Iolaus agreed glumly and followed.  
  
Behind him Galen sighed and muttered, "I got a bad feeling about this."  
  
***  
  
  
"So, where is everybody?" Iolaus asked for about the twentieth time.  
  
"Yeah," Galen seconded, setting his wine cup down and glaring at  
Mattias. "Where's the villagers? Where's my sister? Where's the  
freaking army, for that matter?"  
  
They were seated at a heavy plank table in one of the rooms above the  
main hall, in what was supposed to be the family apartments. In spite  
of a fire in the giant hearth and candles in the wall sconces, the room  
was cold and gloomy. All the furniture was dark and heavy and the  
tapestries half-glimpsed in the shadows seemed to depict bloody losing  
battles or noble death scenes. The food -- spiced chicken and black  
bread -- had been brought by two silent elderly men. Knowing Vlad,  
Iolaus would have expected the staff to be young, female and very  
friendly.   
  
When they had arrived at the castle he had greeted them just like the  
old Vlad, with the same warmth and the usual disarray caused by the  
fact that Dacian warriors kissed hello and Greeks didn't. It had  
almost been enough to make Iolaus think everything was all right,  
except for those unanswered questions.   
  
Disturbingly, they had seen no sign of other servants or courtiers or  
guards. Mattias seemed to accept this situation as perfectly normal  
but Iolaus just couldn't buy it; the palace at Corinth hadn't felt this  
deserted when Perseus had gotten most of the inhabitants turned to  
stone. Hercules was talking to Vlad in the other room and Iolaus just  
hoped he could get some answers out of their old friend.  
  
Mattias took a bite of chicken and shrugged. "It's late. They're  
asleep."  
  
Galen snorted with disbelief and looked at Iolaus, who rolled his eyes.  
  
On the way up to this room they had passed through tall echoing  
corridors that led to tall echoing rooms, sparsely lit by torches in  
wall brackets. The chill air held the acrid taint of pitch and the  
musty-foul odor of bats. The corbelled arches and balconies overhead  
were cloaked in shadow, wonderful places for ambush by strygoi or  
anything else; it made the back of Iolaus' neck itch. The whole place  
was creepy and cold. He had expected the cold, but not the creepiness.   
When he and Hercules had fought with Vlad's forces the Dacian camp had  
always been full of life; he hadn't imagined any of the warriors he had  
met there to be living like this, in a great dark cave.  
  
The door opened and Hercules and Vlad came back into the room. Vlad  
was smiling and so was Hercules, but it was the demigod's reserved,  
noncommittal smile rather than his real one. _He didn't like what he  
heard,_ Iolaus thought, worried, and concentrated on wolfing down the  
last of his dinner in case the situation deteriorated.  
  
"Where's my sister?" Galen demanded, shoving to his feet.  
  
"She is with the other refugees, in the lower part of the fortress,"  
Vlad said, clapping a hand on Galen's shoulder. Vlad Tepes was a big  
man even for a Dacian, and he stood eye to eye with Hercules. He gave  
Galen a friendly shake that probably rattled the shorter man's teeth  
and said, "You will join her soon, I swear it."  
  
Looking up at him, even Galen decided not to argue. Frowning in  
frustration, he stepped back.  
  
Iolaus pushed his plate aside and stood, deciding he might as well jump  
in with both feet. He grinned up at Vlad. "So when are we going after  
the strygoi?"  
  
Vlad shot a glance at Hercules, who assumed an expression of polite  
curiosity. Vlad said, "Ah, it will be easier to find their nest in the  
daylight. I've been able to make a few forays into the valley and I  
think I can locate it with a little help." He slung an arm around  
Iolaus' shoulders, half-lifting him off his feet, and grinned at  
Hercules. "In the meantime, let us talk over old times. I have some  
plum brandy for you to sample."  
  
"No, I'm a little tired, I'd just like to turn in," Hercules said,  
giving Vlad that absent, company smile again.  
  
Distracted, Iolaus planted an elbow in Vlad's ribs to free himself from  
the affectionate stranglehold, saying in surprise, "You're never  
tired." Hercules stared pointedly at him. Iolaus normally ignored it  
whenever Hercules did that, but the situation was just uncertain enough  
that he decided to make an exception. He added, "But, yeah, that was a  
long walk up here."  
  
A flicker of something crossed Vlad's face, there and gone before  
Iolaus could read it. The Prince shrugged. "Of course. I'll summon a  
servant to show you to your rooms."  
  
***  
  
  
One of the two silent servants, who didn't respond to Greek or Latin or  
anything else they tried and seemed vaguely terrified by their attempts  
to communicate, led them to the guest quarters on the floor above.  
  
In their room, Iolaus shrugged off his coat, dropping it onto the  
stone-flagged floor with his pack, and stood his sword against the  
wall. "I really love what Vlad's done with the place," he remarked,  
looking around with his brows lifted dubiously. Hanging above the bed  
was what had to be the most grotesque tapestry he had ever seen in his  
life. In ugly colors and rough lines, it showed a figure either  
feeding a monster or possibly killing it by driving something down its  
throat. The fire in the hearth was welcoming, but the cornices of the  
high-ceilinged room were decorated with carved gargoyles that stared  
down out of the shadows with flat hungry eyes. "I don't know if I can  
sleep with those things looking at me."  
  
"Don't worry, you won't be getting much sleep tonight," Hercules said,  
dumping his pack and coat in the corner.  
  
Iolaus shrugged and sat down on the big bed, bouncing to try out the  
feather-stuffed mattress. "I thought you said you were tired."  
  
Hercules, pacing in front of the fire, paused to give Iolaus a quelling  
look. "We're going to search this place from top to bottom."  
  
"Oh." Iolaus frowned thoughtfully, trying to get his brain back on  
track. "So what did Vlad say?"  
  
Hercules grimaced, as if the story he was about to repeat left a bad  
taste in his mouth. "A few months ago, he was at the Navari border  
fort when he got an urgent message from his father. He only brought a  
few men with him so he could travel faster, but when he got here he  
found the countryside covered with strygoi and the castle full of  
people from the surrounding villages looking for shelter."  
  
"Full of people?" Iolaus repeated skeptically. "This place?"  
  
"Uh huh." Hercules' expression said he didn't think much of that  
either. "He said that not long after he returned, a strygoi made it  
inside and killed his father. He's been fighting a losing battle  
against them ever since." He pushed a frustrated hand through his  
hair, pacing again. "But I know he's not telling me the whole story.   
He's hiding something. Something besides all the refugees."  
  
"Huh." Iolaus thought about it, not liking the way it was all adding  
up. He knew Vlad's father had been called Vlad Dracul. Years ago he  
had been wounded in battle and had to give up the generalship of the  
Dacian armies to his son. He had lived in honorable retirement ever  
since. Thinking of a number of drunken confidences during post-battle  
celebrations at Antioch, Iolaus said slowly, "Vlad never liked his  
father."   
  
Hercules sat beside him, his weight making the mattress sink even more.   
"No, he didn't," he agreed, his brow furrowed.   
  
Iolaus shook his head, knowing they were both thinking the same thing.   
If it was true, Vlad could be in a lot of trouble. Even if the Dacian  
gods didn't consider patricide the worst possible crime, it was  
unlikely that they would look on it favorably. "I still don't get it.   
Even if he wanted the strygoi to kill his father, even if he let them  
into the castle to do it, why would he help them afterward?"  
  
"I know. I don't see what possible benefit there could be for him --  
for anyone. Strygoi are worse than bacchae, they can't be controlled  
or directed by a mortal." Hercules paused, staring absently at the  
wall, lost in thought. "At least...." His brows lifted. "As far as I  
know."  
  
Iolaus shifted uneasily. He could tell what his partner's thoughts  
were from the worried speculation written on his face. "What, you  
think Vlad's found some way to make the strygoi obey him? But why  
would he need that? He's the Prince and Warlord of Dacia; he doesn't  
need an army of the undead, he's already got a real live army. One  
that can attack in daylight."  
  
Hercules let his breath out in annoyance. "It doesn't make sense.   
There's something we're missing."  
  
The door flung open suddenly. Hercules shot to his feet and reached  
for the nearest weapon, which happened to be the bedpost. Iolaus  
rolled off the bed, grabbing for his sword.  
  
"So?" Galen demanded, planting himself belligerently in the middle of  
the door. "Are we going to search this place or what?"  
  
***  
  
  
They decided to split up, at least while searching the upper part of  
the castle. Hercules was reluctant to let them separate, but if the  
place was full of strygoi, they had to find the surviving refugees and  
get out as soon as possible.  
  
They paused in a junction near the guest chambers, where one set of  
stairs led up and another down, and several corridors stretched off  
toward other parts of the castle where torches flickered in the  
darkness. "Remember," Galen said before splitting off to search the  
area near the outer wall. "You can only kill a strygoi by beheading,  
or shoving one of these through their hearts." He thrust one of the  
heavy wooden stakes he carried under Hercules' nose for emphasis.  
  
"I got news for you, Galen," Iolaus told him, adjusting the set of the  
scabbarded sword on his shoulder, "You can kill just about anything by  
shoving one of those through its heart."  
  
Hercules eyed the strygoi-hunter with annoyance, but took the stake,  
tucking it into his belt. "Just yell if you find anything. Don't try  
to take on a strygoi nest alone."  
  
Galen grunted an acknowledgement that left Hercules in no doubt that he  
would not follow those instructions and headed off down the dark  
corridor.  
  
Hercules sighed and turned to Iolaus. "You take the upper levels."  
  
"What?" Iolaus lifted his brows. "There's not going to be anything up  
there except bats."  
  
"Then you can finish quickly, find me, and we'll tackle the lower part  
together."  
  
Iolaus still looked skeptical. Hercules pointed out, "This is our  
escape route. We have to make sure there's nothing up here to stop us  
on our way out."  
  
"Okay, okay," Iolaus conceded reluctantly.  
  
Hercules clasped his shoulder, tempted to dispense a lot of unneeded  
advice about taking care. Iolaus just stood there, looking up at him  
with that expression that said he was prepared to receive the unneeded  
advice with varying degrees of bored annoyance and ridicule. Finally  
they just smiled at each other and went their separate ways.  
  
After an hour or so of searching Hercules made his way down a spiral  
stair. The only thing he had discovered so far was that the place was  
a dark warren of corridors and shadowy chambers, empty and silent.   
Except.... _I know I'm being watched,_ he thought grimly, pausing to  
glance into another unused room. The feeling had been growing ever  
since he had entered this part of the castle. He knew it with such  
certainty that if they were back in Greece he would have been certain a  
god was spying on him.   
  
He looked into the next chamber and saw a fire burned in the hearth. A  
shadow passed over his vision and he blinked, falling back a step. Now  
a dark figure stood at the end of the room, framed by the ruddy light  
of the fire.   
  
Uh oh. Hercules stepped forward slowly, every sense alert, and every  
sense telling him that something was badly wrong. "Vlad?" But as the  
man turned he saw it wasn't Vlad. This man was just as tall, similarly  
built, but there was gray streaking his dark hair and mustache. His  
face was much older, seamed and weatherbeaten. "Who are you?"  
  
"I'm your host," the man said. As he moved the firelight caught the  
side of his face. He had sharp white canine teeth and his eyes were  
flat black, red-rimmed and wicked. "So glad you answered my summons,  
Hercules."  
  
  
***  
  
  
As he had predicted, Iolaus hadn't found anything on the upper levels  
of the living quarters but bats and more cold, empty rooms.   
  
The last place he searched was the highest in the octagonal tower. It  
had better tapestries and wall paintings, lacking in the blood and gore  
of the others below, and the subjects were taken from Dacian stories  
and songs. The chambers were more open and airy, the windows larger,  
but everything was softened by a layer of dust and the furniture was  
pushed to the walls and covered with drapes. It was chill enough that  
Iolaus wished he had brought his coat. _The noblewomen's quarters,_ he  
decided, lifting the torch he had taken from a wall bracket to light  
his way. _So where are they?_ There should be mothers, sisters,  
wives, spinster cousins living here with their friends, servants and  
children. He knew Vlad had a big family and the size and number of the  
rooms suggested they were meant for many people. Funny it hadn't been  
used in so long. Funny that the "honorable retirement" of Vlad's  
father hadn't included the company of any female relatives.  
  
It had an air of sadness and neglect rather than the somber gloominess  
of the other unused areas. Iolaus remembered Vlad saying that his  
mother had taken her own life by throwing herself from the window of  
one of the family's castles. Shaking himself to throw off the sense of  
melancholy, Iolaus turned and headed for the stairs, ready to find  
Hercules and get on with it.  
  
He went back down to the occupied level of the living quarters, in case  
Hercules had finished his search and returned there. He doused the  
torch and tossed it into a wood stack near a hearth. If he met one of  
the servants, he didn't know how he was going to explain strolling  
through the castle with his sword slung over his shoulder, but  
considering the place was under siege by strygoi, maybe an explanation  
wouldn't be necessary.   
  
As he passed one of the chambers off the main hall, looking for a way  
down to the next level, he thought he heard Hercules' voice. He ducked  
inside. "Herc?" The fire in the big hearth was lit but the wall  
sconces were all out, leaving most of the large chamber in shadow.   
There was a long trestle table, a few fur rugs, and tapestries that  
were just gleams of red and gold in the darkness. Halfway up the back  
wall was the balustrade of a musicians' balcony, dark draperies  
concealing any other detail. Though he couldn't see much of the room,  
it felt unoccupied. He took a few cautious steps forward, trying to  
see if there was a door in the opposite wall.  
  
A great crash immediately behind him made Iolaus dive forward, hitting  
the floor and shoulder-rolling to his feet. He landed in a fighting  
crouch, facing toward the sound.  
  
The crash had been the heavy wooden panel door slamming shut. Vlad  
stepped out of the shadows next to it, smiling. "Sorry to startle you,  
Iolaus."  
  
"You didn't," Iolaus said, returning a lie for a lie. He straightened  
slowly, eyeing Vlad suspiciously. Whatever else was going on, it was  
unbelievable that there were strygoi in the castle and Vlad somehow  
ignorant of the fact.  
  
"You were looking for Hercules?" Vlad said, moving forward slowly.   
Though the words were meant to sound casual there was an undertone of  
anticipatory tension that made Iolaus' scalp prickle. "I thought you  
had both retired to bed."  
  
Iolaus shrugged, falling back a couple of steps to keep the same  
distance between them. "He felt like taking a walk."  
  
Vlad's brows lifted and he smiled in a way Iolaus didn't like. "And  
you were also taking a walk?"  
  
"Sure." Iolaus circled back toward the door, making it look casual  
though he didn't think Vlad was fooled in the least.  
  
Vlad shifted to keep facing him, watching Iolaus with concentrated  
intent. Stalking wolves looked at you that way. _Oh yeah, I'm  
definitely in trouble here,_ Iolaus thought. Apparently moved only by  
idle curiosity, Vlad said, "I heard a rumor that you were dead,  
Iolaus."  
  
"Yeah, I heard that rumor too." Iolaus backed to the door, reaching to  
tug on the handle. It didn't budge. _Uh huh, I knew this wasn't going  
to be that easy._ He demanded, "What game are you playing?"   
  
Vlad shrugged. "Not a very complex one. It is only that the situation  
changed since I sent for you." He stepped to the hearth, holding his  
hands to the warmth and flexing them thoughtfully. "By now, Hercules  
is having a similar conversation with my father."  
  
Hoping it was an unfunny joke, Iolaus said, "Your father's dead, Vlad.   
You said the strygoi killed him."  
  
"Ah, so Hercules told you of that." Vlad glanced up with a faint  
smile. "I confess I did not tell him all the story. My father did  
become a strygoi and I did attempt to destroy him. The part I left out  
was that I...was not successful."  
  
A big lump of the puzzle suddenly fell into place, and Iolaus felt his  
insides turn cold. He said, "When you invited us here for a strygoi  
hunt, you might have mentioned that the strygoi would be hunting us."   
He reached up, sliding his sword free of its scabbard. "And that you  
were one of them."   
  
"That would have ruined the surprise," Vlad said, sounding almost like  
himself for an instant.  
  
Iolaus wasn't fooled. "I hate surprises," he muttered, taking a firmer  
grip on his sword and bracing himself to move.  
  
Vlad stepped toward him deliberately and Iolaus shifted along the wall,  
not wanting to be cornered against the door. "The simple truth is that  
this was never my father's home, it was his prison. Did you ever  
wonder how strygoi were first created?"  
  
"No," Iolaus replied honestly. If he had ever thought about it, he  
would have assumed they had been created by a god, either from  
malicious purpose or pure accident, like all the other monsters. At  
the moment he really didn't care.  
  
"Surely you are more curious than that." Vlad smiled, and this time  
Iolaus saw the fangs, white and sharp against the other man's lips.   
"Every so often a man is born so evil, so corrupt, he becomes strygoi  
by his own foul nature and not by infection from another creature. But  
he does not take his full power until his death. When I and my  
brothers and the other nobles realized what my father was, we  
imprisoned him here, but we could not kill him because he was still  
Dacian and royal." Vlad's expression sobered and he paced another step  
forward. "I was on the border when I received a message that he was  
dying. I came as quickly as I could, to make sure it was a true death  
and that he did not rise again, but I was too late." He eyed him  
speculatively. "Now my father wishes to control Hercules. And as  
everyone knows, the first step to that is-- You." He lurched forward  
suddenly, catching up a candlestand and swinging it at Iolaus.  
  
"Why can't these guys come up with a different plan," Iolaus said under  
his breath, deflecting the swing of the heavy iron stand and twisting  
out of arm's reach.  
  
The stand clanged heavily against his sword as Iolaus blocked two more  
blows. He ducked under the next, the iron whistling past his ears as  
he made it out into the wider part of the room. Vlad snarled,  
abandoning the stand and leaning down to grab a massive wooden chair by  
one leg. Iolaus' eyes widened as Vlad lifted it effortlessly, one-  
handed. Realizing belatedly where the chair was heading, he swore,  
dodging backward as Vlad flung it at him.   
  
He almost made it clear but the heavy back struck him in the leg as it  
landed and he went down. He rolled back to see Vlad almost on top of  
him. Desperate, he twisted, pushing himself up on his knees, and  
slammed the sword into Vlad's chest.  
  
Vlad stopped, staring down at the hilt protruding from his body.   
Iolaus shoved to his feet, breathing hard. For an instant he forgot  
about the strygoi, forgot about everything except that he had just  
driven his sword through the heart of a man who had once been his  
friend.  
  
Then Vlad reached down, his fingers curling around the blade, and  
pulled out the sword.  
  
Iolaus took an involuntary step back. "Uh oh," he breathed.  
  
***  
  
  
_And here's the missing piece,_ Hercules thought, regarding the  
stranger warily. The family resemblance, his presence here, all added  
up to one thing, and he was sure he could put a name to the man  
standing before the hearth, though it didn't make sense. "Your  
summons?" he said, stepping further into the room. The firelight threw  
leaping shadows onto walls covered with martial paintings, giving the  
fighting, dying figures the illusion of movement.  
  
"Yes." The fangs, so unexpected and animal-like in that stern face,  
gleamed a little. "I am the Master here."  
  
Hercules took a cautious step closer. There was a statue on a table  
nearby, a heavy-looking stone griffin, nicely shaped and situated for a  
blunt club, and he wanted to get it within arm's reach. He said, "I  
thought your son controlled this castle."  
  
Dracul lifted a brow. "Ah, then you know who I am. Very good." He  
paced away from the fire, further into the shadow. His expression was  
hidden but his voice sounded amused as he said, "No, my son controls  
nothing. Not anymore. I permitted him to send for you because it  
suited my purpose."   
  
Oh, no, Hercules thought, suddenly seeing the whole picture. Vlad  
wasn't so taken by family pride that he would have hidden this from  
them, not when he had summoned them for help. Not unless he couldn't  
tell them. "You turned your own son into a strygoi," he said, his  
voice rough with anger and the sick certainty it was the truth.  
  
Dracul inclined his head, as if conceding the point. "You're quick,  
for a Greek barbarian."  
  
Ignoring the insult as an attempt to distract him, Hercules demanded,  
"Why did you send for me?"   
  
"I must build an army of strygoi, to defeat my son's forces. Already  
his nobles grow restless that he has not returned to them, and send  
messages demanding answers. Soon they will come themselves and I must  
be ready." Dracul smiled, barring his pointed canines. "There are  
those among them who will know what we are and no masquerade will  
suffice."  
  
"What does that have to do with me?"  
  
"You will make a very powerful strygoi, under my control."  
  
_Oh, great. I should have known._ Hercules smiled grimly. "You  
might not find it as easy as you think."  
  
"Even now, my son is explaining these matters to your companion--"  
  
_This is a trap._ The thought was barely formed as Hercules grabbed  
the statue, stepping forward to slam it into Dracul. Expecting an  
impact, he almost slammed himself into the stones of the hearth when  
the statue passed through empty air. Staggering, Hercules caught  
himself, looking wildly around. The only sign he could see of Dracul  
was a mist vanishing down through the flagstone floor.  
  
Swearing, he pushed away from the wall and ran.  
  
He reached the end of the corridor when he caught a flash of brown out  
of the corner of his eye. He ducked, reaching up to boost whatever was  
leaping at him over his head and across the corridor into the wall.  
  
He slid to a halt, braced for another attack. He stopped in shock when  
he recognized the man staggering to his feet.   
  
"Galen!" Hercules stared, feeling sick. There was no mistaking what  
Galen was: the man's eyes had already reddened, the pupils elongated  
like an animal's.  
  
Galen fell back against the wall, sliding away along it. "I can't stop  
myself, Hercules, that's how it works," he said through gritted teeth.   
"I can hear them in my head, telling me what to do." He stared, for a  
moment his eyes fading back to their normal color. "Kill me!"  
  
Hercules hesitated, the appeal so desperate he was half-tempted to  
comply. But there had to be another way. And he had to get to Iolaus.   
"Galen, just hold on, I'll--"  
  
Galen's eyes reddened again and he bolted back down the corridor.   
Hercules shook his head mutely and turned for the stairs.  
  
***  
  
  
_Damn, he hits like the Sovereign,_ Iolaus thought, dazed and reeling  
from the last blow. Vlad's reach was longer and whenever Iolaus got  
close enough to land a punch or a kick, the return hit augmented by  
supernatural strygoi-strength knocked him sideways. He slammed into a  
table, grabbed the silver platter off it and swung it up just in time  
to deflect a punch to his head. Vlad yelled in pain, retreating a  
step.   
  
Breathing hard, Iolaus pushed away from the table, circling toward the  
open part of the room. There was only one escape route that he could  
see and he was almost in position to try it.   
  
Watching him intently, rubbing his hand as if the silver had burned  
him, Vlad said, "I would tell you that there is no point in resistance,  
that soon you will welcome this, but we both know that isn't true."  
  
"Thanks for being honest," Iolaus snarled. He flung the platter into  
Vlad's face and broke past him, vaulting atop the long table. Knowing  
he would only have one chance, he took a couple of running steps and  
jumped for the bottom edge of the balcony balustrade. He caught the  
stone lip of it, his fingers digging into the carving. Before he could  
pull himself up something struck him in the back, knocking him free of  
his precarious hold.  
  
Iolaus slammed down into the table, fell off and landed hard on the  
stone floor. Stunned, he tasted the coppery tang of his own blood. He  
flailed one arm and grabbed the bench, half dragging himself to his  
feet, but Vlad suddenly loomed over him. Iolaus tried to fling himself  
away but he caught just a glimpse of a fist coming at him before the  
world went black.   
  
Barely clinging to consciousness, his head pounding, Iolaus realized he  
had collapsed over the table. _Wake up, wake up or die,_ a voice  
chanted in his head. He felt Vlad lift his legs and dump him face  
first onto the wooden surface. With a desperate yelp, Iolaus managed  
to roll over, trying to get his eyes open, trying to push himself up.   
  
Suddenly his head was slammed back into the heavy planks and a weight  
pinned him down on his back, flattening the last gasp of air from his  
lungs. His arms were effortlessly pinned above his head.  
  
Iolaus managed to open his eyes but all he could see was a blur. Now  
one large hand pinioned both his wrists and a painful grip on his hair  
twisted his head to the side. The fangs stabbing into his flesh  
snapped him back to full awareness. Shock and pain forced a cry out of  
him; it felt like his throat was being ripped out in slow motion. He  
twisted, struggling blindly, but the grip on his wrists just tightened.   
He worked a leg free and managed to drive his heel into Vlad's side  
with a desperate force that should have broken bone, but the strygoi  
ignored it.   
  
_Hercules,_ Iolaus thought in despair, willing the demigod to get here,  
though it might only be in time to avenge his death. Despite the heat  
of the struggle and the heavy body pinning him, he could feel a chill  
creeping over him. His vision went hazy and he didn't even have the  
strength to spit one last curse.  
  
The terrible pressure lifted abruptly and with almost his last effort  
Iolaus took advantage of the respite to roll off the table. He landed  
on his hands and knees, barely able to keep himself from collapsing.   
Pain pounded through his entire body, emanating from the wound in his  
neck, increasing with every labored heartbeat. Gasping, he touched it  
gingerly, squinting at the blood on his fingers. If his throat really  
had been torn out, then there would surely be more blood than that.   
  
From the balcony somewhere above his head he heard Vlad's voice say,  
"You're too late, Hercules. I've taken enough blood to turn him." His  
laughter was richly amused. "Better watch your back. He'll have to  
feed to survive the day."  
  
Iolaus tried to stand but his head swam and his legs refused to support  
him. Blinking at the fog clouding his vision, he saw Hercules drop to  
his knees in front of him. The demigod grabbed him by the shoulders,  
lifting him up. The enormity of what had happened was just beginning  
to sink in. He wasn't dead but he had been bitten -- infected -- by a  
strygoi. Iolaus gasped, "You'll have to kill me."  
  
  
Pain shot through his head suddenly and Iolaus reeled over with a yell.   
Hercules tried to steady him but he pulled away, pounding a fist on the  
floor. The new agony receded to a throbbing ache, joining the  
counterpoint formed by the pain coursing through his body. It was  
enough to let him get a breath and he collapsed against the table leg.   
It felt like something had erupted right through the roof of his mouth.   
Oh, no....  
  
He lifted a trembling hand and carefully felt his teeth. Something had  
erupted from the roof of his mouth: two new fangs. "Oh, this is  
disgusting." He looked up helplessly, barely able to see Hercules  
leaning over him. "How could somebody want to become a strygoi  
voluntarily? It freaking hurts." One of the new teeth stabbed him in  
the lip and he swore. "You'd have to be nuts."   
  
Things got fuzzy after that. Hercules hauled him up and slung him over  
his shoulder, an action Iolaus protested with a faint yelp. As  
darkness came and went he kept forgetting who had him and making feeble  
attempts to escape. He heard Vlad's voice whispering through his  
thoughts, like blood drizzled through water. It was telling Iolaus to  
come to the others, or some other damn stupid thing. _Great,_ Iolaus  
thought coherently, if sourly, _like I need that too._ It didn't  
matter how weak and confused he was, part of his mind knew just what to  
do. Concentrating, he locked the intrusive voice out of his head. The  
effort of it made the world black out again.  
  
  
...continued in part 2 


	2. Part 2

Darkness Visible  
by Martha Wilson  
  
http://www.rtis.com/nat/user/chimera/legends.htm  
The Less Than Legendary Journeys  
  
Part 2  
  
  
***  
  
  
Drifting, Iolaus came back to cold hard reality when he was  
deposited on a stone floor. Shivering with weakness and blood  
loss, he lifted his head and watched the room swim in and out of  
focus. His shirt had been torn open in the struggle and  
remembering that his amulet had been tucked inside it, he felt for  
it to make sure it was still there.   
  
Finally he managed to make his eyes work. He was in a corner of a  
small room lit only by one torch jammed into an iron wall sconce.   
It threw shadows over a dusty tapestry, a few pieces of bulky dark  
furniture and the stuffed head of an antlered animal that looked  
as if it was probably carnivorous. Iolaus pushed himself into a  
sitting position and saw Hercules kneeling before the hearth,  
trying to get a fire started. He sank back against the wall in  
relief. Then he stabbed his lip with his new teeth again and  
remembered just how bad things were.   
  
The little fire leapt to life though as far as Iolaus could tell  
it had no effect on the numbing chill in the air. Hercules stood,  
looking around the room as if assessing it for something. He  
nodded to himself and muttered, "Right."  
  
"You're taking this awfully well," Iolaus ventured, trying to make  
conversation. Hercules looked down at him but before Iolaus could  
make out his expression a spasm in the gut doubled him over. He  
curled up around the agony, gritting his teeth.   
  
The spasm faded and Iolaus fell back against the wall, panting.   
It was hunger, so intense it was crippling. Maybe that was why  
fledgling strygoi attacked their first victim, but Iolaus couldn't  
imagine how they managed it. All he wanted to do was curl up in a  
foetal position and moan. He blinked pain tears out of his eyes,  
seeing that Hercules was facing away from him. He couldn't  
remember if Hercules had said why they had come to this room. He  
tried to speak, had to clear his throat, and finally managed, "Why  
are we here?"  
  
"I didn't want Vlad or any of the others finding us while I'm  
doing this."  
  
_Oh, yeah, gotta kill me. Right._ "How long were you planning to  
take with it?" Iolaus asked worriedly. He braced himself against  
the wall, trying to lever himself up enough to see what Hercules  
was doing. "I was thinking something really quick." His thoughts  
were going in circles and the room kept tilting to the right,  
making him slide down the wall. "What happens when you die here?   
Never mind, I want to be horrified -- I mean surprised. Did I say  
that out loud?" Another hunger spasm hit, hunching him over  
again. When he managed to lift his head, Hercules was sitting in  
front of him.  
  
Iolaus found himself pressing back against the wall. While his  
brain knew how necessary this was, his body was obviously not  
convinced. _He could at least act a little upset,_ Iolaus  
thought, looking at Hercules' calm expression and beginning to  
feel a little pique mixed in with the confusion and misery. _Or  
say goodbye, or something._ He had the idea he should say  
something, maybe an apology, but it was so hard to think. He  
tried anyway. "Hey, about killing me--"  
  
Hercules interrupted, "Iolaus, can you hear Vlad?"  
  
Iolaus looked around wildly, startled. "What, he's here?"  
  
"No." Hercules caught his shoulders, turning Iolaus back to face  
him. "In your head. I found Galen -- he was bitten too -- he  
said he could hear the strygoi in his thoughts."  
  
"Oh yeah, that, at first. Blah, blah, blah, whatever. I just..."   
Iolaus hesitated. It was hard to put into words, especially when  
it was so difficult to stay coherent. "...made it stop. He's not  
strong, like Dahak, he's just annoying." He blinked up at  
Hercules, realizing he couldn't hold himself up anymore. Things  
were starting to slide back into the dark again. Iolaus had one  
clear thought that this might be the last time.  
  
Somebody grabbed him by the back of the neck. Everything blurred  
as panic hit and the instinct to fight overrode everything else.   
He broke the hold with a twist and a forearm smash, the strength  
he hadn't had a moment ago returning in a rush. Something grabbed  
him again and an instinct took over; he smelled bare living flesh  
and sank his teeth into it.  
  
Iolaus came back to himself as the room spun in slow circles. He  
realized Hercules was supporting him with an arm around his chest  
and for a moment he couldn't remember what they were doing. Then  
he realized that coppery tang he could taste wasn't his own blood.   
Shocked, he said, "I bit you."  
  
"I know. I'm sorry," Hercules said, sounding a little shaky  
himself. "How do you feel?"  
  
Iolaus pulled away, sagging back against the wall, gagging. The  
room stopped swinging around as his dizziness faded and his  
pounding heart slowed. He took a full breath without pain and  
blinked, trying to sit up. He couldn't figure out why Hercules  
was apologizing to him. Sick with guilt, he asked, "Where did I  
get you?"  
  
"The wrist. It's nothing." Hercules leaned over him anxiously.   
"You look a little better. How do you feel?"  
  
_He took off his gauntlet. He deliberately let me--_ Iolaus  
shook his head, running a shaking hand through his hair. The  
numbing chill that had sapped his strength was draining away,  
leaving him shaky but able to hold himself upright. His head was  
clearing, too. He looked at Hercules, appalled. "Are you out of  
your mind?" he gasped, caught between relief that he wasn't dead  
and outrage at the method Hercules had used to save him. "You  
could have told me what you were doing--"  
  
"You were dying and I didn't have time to argue with you about  
it," Hercules said with a calm assurance that at the moment Iolaus  
found damn irritating.  
  
"You didn't know what could have happened--" he sputtered, his  
voice gaining strength "I could have killed you! Or-- Or turned  
you into one of these things too--"  
  
"No, you didn't take that much."  
  
"You didn't know I'd stop!" Iolaus couldn't believe Hercules had  
taken the chance. At close quarters, with Hercules trying not to  
hurt him, it would have been impossible to control him even with  
the demigod's strength. "It was a stupid thing to do!"  
  
Hercules sat back, shaking his head. "I'm not going to discuss  
it."  
  
"I didn't ask for this!"  
  
Hercules pressed his lips together, glaring at him, then gestured  
helplessly. "You asked me to kill you. How do you think that  
makes me feel?"  
  
"Under the circumstances--" Iolaus began determinedly. He had no  
idea how to finish the sentence but he knew he wanted to argue.  
  
Hercules shook his head, holding up an admonitory hand. "I don't  
want to discuss it."  
  
This left Iolaus sputtering again. "Well, I'm not going to  
apologize to you--"  
  
"I'm not going to apologize to you," Hercules said in annoyance,  
apparently forgetting that he already had.  
  
"Fine!" Iolaus snarled, throwing his hands in the air. He hated  
giving up on an argument even when he wasn't sure what it was  
about. Hercules picked up his gauntlet and Iolaus grabbed his arm  
before he could put the leather back on, turning it to look at the  
bite mark. The twin wounds were tiny but that didn't make him  
feel any better about it. "Does it hurt?" he asked worriedly.  
  
"No." Hercules fitted his gauntlet back on and looked closely at  
the livid mark on Iolaus' neck. He winced. "Vlad must have  
bigger teeth."  
  
"These feel huge," Iolaus grumbled, investigating his own set.   
Probing too carelessly, he pricked his thumb again. "Dammit!"  
  
Doing the buckles on his gauntlet one-handed, Hercules looked up,  
alarmed. "What?"  
  
Iolaus shook his head. "Never mind."  
  
_I can't believe I let this happen,_ Hercules thought, looking  
down and keeping a tight rein on his own emotions. In Sumeria he  
had walked blindly into the trap, despite the warnings of his own  
nightmares. This time he had known something was wrong; he had  
been cautious and suspicious and it still hadn't helped. Iolaus  
was right to lose faith in him.  
  
He was going to kill Vlad Tepes.  
  
If Vlad hadn't leapt to the balcony as Hercules broke down the  
door, he would be dead already. Beheading killed strygoi just has  
surely as the wooden stakes Galen used and at that moment Hercules  
had been ready and willing to do it bare-handed.  
  
With effort, he put that thought aside for now. At least Iolaus  
didn't look as bad as he had a few moments ago: he wasn't as  
deathly pale and though the bruises on his face were livid they  
didn't stand out as much as his skin took on a more normal tone.   
The bite mark on his neck still looked inflamed and painful.   
  
It seemed incredible that Iolaus had gone through everything,  
Dahak, the Paths of the Dead, his painful return to life, just to  
end up a victim of strygoi. _He's not dead, that's the important  
thing._ As long as he wasn't dead, being a strygoi was a  
temporary condition. Hercules said, "Galen and Darius both said  
that everyone who was bitten would turn back to normal if the  
Strygoi Master was killed."  
  
Iolaus just looked glum. Hercules had to admit that since Darius  
had been eaten and Galen turned it tended to throw doubt on their  
strygoi expertise. But Galen had also told them that the Strygoi  
Master would be able to change shape as long as the sun was down,  
turning himself into mist or smoke, and Hercules had witnessed  
that. He said, "There's only one likely candidate for the Strygoi  
Master and that's Dracul, Vlad's father."  
  
Iolaus sat up suddenly, alert. "It is him."  
  
Hercules nodded as Iolaus repeated what Vlad had told him. "That  
settles it," he said, getting to his feet. In one way, nothing  
had changed. They still had to find the refugees and destroy  
Dracul, even if it meant killing all the strygoi in the castle.   
_Well,_ Hercules reflected, looking down at Iolaus, _almost all._   
"We need to find someplace for you to stay while I go after  
Dracul. This is too close to the living quarters, they could--"  
  
"What do you mean?" Iolaus surged to his feet. "I'm going with  
you."   
  
Hercules hesitated. _He looks like Iolaus, except for the teeth.   
He sounds like Iolaus. He acts like Iolaus._ "Are you sure you  
feel up to it?"  
  
"I'm fine." Iolaus eyed him suspiciously. "Stop staring at my  
teeth."  
  
"Sorry." Remembering there hadn't been any sign of what Vlad had  
become, even at close quarters, he added, "Vlad was able to hide  
his."  
  
"I'm sorry, I must have missed the orientation lecture," Iolaus  
said tightly.  
  
"That wasn't a criticism, I--" Hercules contemplated the ceiling  
for a few moments, regaining his calm. "All right, never mind."  
  
"You can trust me," Iolaus said. His voice was determined but his  
eyes were pleading.   
  
"I know that," Hercules said, then thought, _Yes, I do know that._   
If Iolaus could resist Dahak for so long, then he could handle  
this. Hercules was willing to bet his life on it. He put a hand  
on Iolaus' shoulder and said, "Let's go."  
  
***  
  
  
They went back to the stair Hercules had found earlier, the one  
that led down into the lower parts of the castle.  
  
"Why did Mattias agree to bring us here?" Iolaus wondered as they  
worked their way down the dark spiral. Dust hung in the cold air  
and the light from the torch Hercules carried reflected off damp  
stained stone. "He's not a strygoi but he must have known what  
had happened." They had seen Mattias travel in daylight,  
something that strygoi couldn't do.   
  
Hercules nodded. "He's under Dracul's control, somehow. Or maybe  
Dracul still had mortal supporters and Mattias is one of them."  
  
Iolaus shook his head, amazed at the chamberlain's blind,  
misguided loyalty. _I can't believe this,_ he thought, torn  
between embarrassment that he was in this situation and the strong  
desire to murder Vlad and every other strygoi he could catch.   
His throat still hurt, though he didn't feel as stiff and achey  
from the fight as he should have. There was a strange core of  
heat inside his chest; it banished the cold but made him realize  
that there were still changes going on in his body. It scared the  
Tartarus out of him. _But I'm still me,_ he told himself  
stubbornly. If Dracul escaped them, or if the legend about the  
death of the Strygoi Master restoring all the victims was just  
that, a legend.... _What'll you do, stay in Dacia and find a cave  
to haunt? Yeah, right._ He sighed and it came out more as a  
groan.  
  
Hercules stopped, looking back up at him with a worried frown.   
"What?"  
  
"Nothing," Iolaus told him hastily.   
  
The stairs ended in a well with three high-ceilinged corridors  
branching off, their upper portions lost in shadow. It was easy  
to see this part of the castle had been unoccupied for a time;  
cobwebs clung to the stone carvings of gargoyles and snarling  
gryphons and the place smelled dusty and unused.  
  
Hercules headed for the corridor that led deeper into the mountain  
but Iolaus paused, his attention caught by something up the other  
darkened passage. He squinted, realizing he wasn't looking down  
into unrelieved darkness: he could see doorways and a branching  
corridor further down, and a gallery looking down on it from  
above, all outlined in stark gray. There must be windows at the  
end of the passage, looking out into the moonlit night. There was  
also a strygoi down there somewhere, watching them. Stalking them.  
  
_How do I know that?_ Iolaus wondered. Not sight, not sound, not  
smell, either. Hercules had already started down the other  
corridor and Iolaus called to him, "Hey, I've got to check  
something out. Just keep going, I'll catch up with you."  
  
"Right." Lifting the torch to look into a room he had found,  
Hercules nodded, distracted. An instant later he processed what  
his partner had said. "Wait, no, Iolaus!" He spun to make a wild  
grab, but Iolaus had vanished. Hurriedly he looked down the other  
corridors but there was no sign of him anywhere.   
  
Aghast at how quickly the disaster had occurred, Hercules swore,  
then pressed his lips together. It was entirely possible that  
Iolaus was planning to come back. Hercules let his breath out,  
pushed a hand through his hair, and turned to continue up the  
corridor. "This is just great," he muttered.  
  
***  
  
  
Iolaus moved soundlessly down the passage, so absorbed he didn't  
even hear Hercules calling for him. He reached one of the pillars  
supporting the gallery at the end, found handholds in the carved  
rock, and climbed it to perch on the balustrade. He hesitated,  
looking for the windows which provided the muted light that  
allowed him to see shapes and objects but not colors. There  
weren't any and he smacked himself in the forehead in realization:   
he could see in the dark.  
  
_At least that'll come in handy, unlike the damn teeth._ He  
slipped off the balustrade and ghosted silently along the gallery.   
It crossed the passage and turned into another corridor,  
parallelling the one Hercules had chosen to search. Iolaus paused  
to take down an old javelin from a set that was making up part of  
an elaborate wall decoration. He could still sense the strygoi  
somewhere ahead. Unaware of Iolaus, it was focused on hunting the  
demigod, trying to get ahead of him.  
  
Iolaus caught up to the creature just as it reached a balcony that  
overlooked the lower corridor. Suddenly aware of his presence, it  
turned with a soundless growl. Iolaus had time to notice it was  
an undead Strygoi, even more horrific than the one that had killed  
Darius. Its hair was a ragged mane, its clothes and leather armor  
just tattered filthy remnants, and this close it stunk like a  
decaying corpse. Baring fangs, its face twisted into a snarl.  
  
It leapt at him and Iolaus swung the javelin, snapping it across  
the strygoi's head. He blocked a wild blow as it staggered into  
the wall, then slammed the broken end into its chest.   
  
It didn't go easily. Gurgling, its eyes glowing with fury, it  
clawed at him, the rigid nails on its hands tearing at his shirt  
and scratching his arms as he grimly forced the javelin further  
in. It slid down the wall, finally going limp.  
  
Breathing hard more from exhilaration than effort, Iolaus stepped  
back, shaking his hair out of his eyes. _That's one,_ he thought  
with satisfaction, nudging the limp creature with his boot. _Out  
of who knows how many._ It was a start, anyway.  
  
He leaned down to pick up the other half of the broken javelin and  
froze, staring at his extended hand.  
  
He had claws.  
  
With a soft curse he straightened up, staring at his hands.   
Unlike the appearance of his teeth, it hadn't hurt a bit.   
  
Iolaus flexed his fingers thoughtfully, watching the claws appear  
and withdraw. He lifted a brow. _Huh. Well that could come in  
handy too._   
  
***  
  
  
Continuing the search, Hercules half-expected Iolaus to reappear  
by dropping off one of the shadowy balconies onto his head. He  
paused, peering warily down a dark cross-corridor.  
  
"Hey, you know what's funny? I--"   
  
Hercules flinched violently. Iolaus was standing at his elbow.  
  
"What's with you?" Iolaus demanded, looking him over suspiciously.  
  
"Nothing," Hercules managed. "Where...." He trailed off,  
studying Iolaus closely. Something was different.   
  
Noticing the scrutiny, Iolaus said, "Oh, I figured out how to make  
my teeth go back in." He stepped forward, pulling up his upper  
lip. "Want to see?"  
  
"Not really." With a hand on his shoulder, Hercules eased him  
back a step. "What were you saying?"  
  
"Oh, right. I can tell where the strygoi are, at least the undead  
ones."  
  
Hercules frowned, not understanding. "What do you mean, tell  
where they are? How?"  
  
"I don't know." Iolaus shrugged. "It's like I could just tell  
that one was nearby, hunting us."  
  
"Huh. That could come in handy," Hercules admitted. "Is it still  
there?"  
  
"Yeah, but it's more dead than undead." Iolaus scratched his  
chest absently, then flexed his fingers. "Oh yeah. There's  
something else I wanted to mention."  
  
***  
  
  
The strygoi charged and Hercules reversed the heavy spear,  
catching the creature with the broken end. He pinned it to the  
wall, waiting grimly until its struggles ceased. Stepping back,  
he turned as another strygoi fled by him, then hastily jumped  
aside as Iolaus shot past, yelling, "That one's mine!"  
  
"Right." Used to this behavior by now, Hercules looked around the  
dark chamber, wondering why the undead strygoi had decided to  
congregate here. This wasn't even an actual room, just a wider  
spot in the passage where it formed an outer corner of the  
bastion. If the strygoi had been planning an ambush, they had  
done a lousy job of it, allowing their quarry to catch them  
completely by surprise.   
  
There was a window in the far wall but boards had been hammered  
into the wooden frame, completely covering it. Hercules pulled  
them out, revealing a night time view out over the snow-covered  
mountains and the river valley below. The perpetual cloudcover  
had finally parted and the full moon was shining brightly.   
Hercules studied the sky, not certain how much longer they had  
until morning. The nights were long here. _Too long,_ he  
thought, pressing his lips together. After a couple of hours of  
searching they had found several undead strygoi but no sign of  
Dracul, Vlad or any of the others who had to be here somewhere.   
At least he knew that all the strygoi, dead and undead, would  
sleep during the day. If they could just locate the nest, killing  
Dracul then should be relatively easy. _Should be. But it's  
never easy._  
  
"There's no strygoi out there," Iolaus said, suddenly appearing at  
his elbow and bristling with impatience. Like the demigod, Iolaus  
had several broken pieces of boar spears and javelins tucked into  
his belt for use on the strygoi. "Come on."  
  
Hercules eyed him thoughtfully. He was getting used to Iolaus'  
sudden appearances and disappearances. The only thing that was  
still a little disconcerting was that Iolaus didn't seem to  
realize he was moving in complete silence. Something else  
occurred to him and he asked, "The undead Strygoi.... They don't  
have blood, do they?"  
  
"No." Iolaus spat into the dust. "They're useless."  
  
Hercules let out his breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He  
wasn't sure how long Iolaus could go without more blood. _I'm not  
going to let him die,_ he thought stubbornly.   
  
The more he had seen, the more sure he was that Iolaus just wasn't  
like the other strygoi. When Hercules had seen Galen, his eyes  
had been red, the pupils elongated like an animal's; Iolaus' eyes  
were the right shape and still the same familiar blue. And except  
for a single-minded determination to kill strygoi that amounted  
almost to a monomania, he was behaving consistently like himself.   
"Hey, let me see your hands." Hercules had avoided closely  
examining Iolaus' physical changes. But he didn't have to steel  
himself nearly as much as he would have expected to look at  
Iolaus' new set of claws.   
  
With an impatient snort, Iolaus held out both hands. Hercules  
took one, examining it thoughtfully. It felt the same; the thick  
layer of callous over the palm that came from using a sword all  
his life, the tiny burn scars from his days as a blacksmith. Then  
he pressed Iolaus' fingertip and a good half-inch of claw  
protruded.  
  
"Hey!" Indignant, Iolaus yanked his hand back. "That feels  
weird."  
  
"Sorry. I'm just trying to figure out.... You don't seem very  
much like the other strygoi."  
  
"So...." Iolaus shifted uncertainly. "What am I?"  
  
Hercules shook his head, wishing that was one question he could  
answer. "I don't know. But I have the feeling Dracul and Vlad  
didn't plan on it."   
  
Iolaus let out his breath, running a hand through his hair  
impatiently. "I don't want to be an undead anything--"  
  
"You're not dead," Hercules said pointedly. "You're breathing,  
your heart is beating--"  
  
Frustrated, Iolaus threw his arms in the air. "I have to drink  
blood to survive--"  
  
"Well, there are obviously ways to deal with that." Hercules  
realized that having this conversation over the moldering corpses  
of strygoi probably wasn't the best idea. "Come on, let's go down  
this way. That window was covered so the strygoi could pass  
through here during the day. There could be dozens of them right  
around the corner."  
  
Iolaus snorted. "Stop trying to cheer me up."  
  
***  
  
  
  
After they had gone only a short distance down the corridor,  
Iolaus could see that Hercules was right. The dust that should be  
coating the flat flagstones of the floor had been recently  
disturbed by large numbers of feet. Suddenly he paused, one hand  
on the damp stone wall. "I smell blood."  
  
As Hercules gave him a sideways look Iolaus realized that was  
probably not a reassuring statement to make, especially under the  
circumstances. Hercules asked mildly, "More strygoi?"  
  
"No, people. Live people." Iolaus wrinkled his nose and moved  
further down the corridor, trying to follow the coppery scent  
drifting on the cold air. He wasn't sure how he could tell it was  
fresh blood. Probably the same way he could sense the undead  
strygoi when they ventured too close, or the blood moving through  
Hercules' veins.  
  
Iolaus stopped, frowning. Inexplicably, the odor was coming out  
of the wall, from the cracks in the mortar between the stones.   
Wondering if he was officially crazy now, Iolaus ran his hands  
over it. No, not crazy; he could feel a tiny drafts against his  
fingers. "Herc...."  
  
"Uh huh." Hercules had halted to make his own investigation. He  
lifted his torch and Iolaus saw he had found a distinct gap  
between the stones, running from the floor up to vanish in the  
shadows near the ceilings. The stream of air issuing from it made  
the torch flutter.  
  
"Great. Knock it down." Iolaus stepped back, gesturing  
impatiently toward the wall.  
  
Hercules lifted a brow, giving him one of those "I think not"  
looks. "I'll just do this." He took hold of the empty candle  
sconce to the side of the gap and twisted it.  
  
A faint groan issued from the wall and the stones shivered. A  
section half the height of the tall corridor and nearly as wide  
across began to lift up, all in one piece. Invisible gears and  
chains moaned with the effort. Iolaus exchanged a look with  
Hercules, both moving to the side so as not to be directly in  
front of the opening about to be revealed. Hercules stuck the  
torch into a handy bracket, freeing his hands in case anything  
charged out at them.   
  
As the wall lifted away Iolaus saw a broad torchlit stairwell,  
spiraling down into the depths of the mountain. A stream of cold  
air flowed up and out, carrying with it a prison stink of blood,  
urine and unwashed bodies. With a grim expression Hercules  
started down the stairs and Iolaus plunged after him.   
  
Two turns down Iolaus sensed strygoi and pushed ahead. He could  
hear people now too, moving, whispering, a woman crying out weakly  
in alarm.  
  
They were both pelting down the steps now and the strygoi were  
sure to hear but Iolaus didn't find that a compelling enough  
reason to slow down. Another turn and he burst through an archway  
into a large cave-like chamber. One wild look around told him it  
was full of people, roughly-dressed Dacian peasants. Most of them  
lay in huddled bundles, chained to the walls or the supporting  
pillars. A strygoi was just standing up from the prone body of a  
woman.  
  
Iolaus hit it in a flying tackle, knocking it sprawling across the  
stone floor.  
  
Rolling away, it caught him in the chest with one foot, shoving  
him back. It leapt up and made an abortive dart towards the  
stairs, but Hercules shifted to block its way. Iolaus came to his  
feet in one smooth motion, kneecapped it with a kick, then landed  
on its chest, poised to drive the javelin through its heart.   
  
It was at that point he realized it wasn't undead. The man was  
still breathing, his heart still beating. His clothes weren't the  
moldering grave rags that the other strygoi wore, but well-made  
leather armor, with the seal of the Dacian Royal Guard on the  
breast. He snarled up at Iolaus, nothing left of the man he had  
been behind his eyes.   
  
Behind him Hercules shouted, "Iolaus, no! We talked about this."  
  
_Damn, I was hoping he'd forget about that._ Hercules had  
resolved not to kill the living strygoi, the ones who could still  
be restored to normal, unless it was unavoidable. In a weak  
moment Iolaus had agreed to it. He said through gritted teeth,  
"I've had a really, really bad day."   
  
"I know," Hercules said more softly. "But...no."  
  
Trembling with the effort of restraint, Iolaus stared down into  
the creature's empty eyes and thought _that's going to be you if  
you're not lucky._ All the more reason to kill it. He swore and  
slammed the strygoi's head back into the stone floor, knocking it  
unconscious.  
  
He held on to the creature as Hercules found a spare set of  
chains, then they got it locked securely to a pillar on the far  
side of the chamber. After that Iolaus had to lean against the  
wall, his head down, breathing hard and trying to hold on to his  
self-control. _I really, really hate those things._ Hercules  
paused a moment to rest a hand on his back, then turned away to go  
to the imprisoned refugees.  
  
After a time Iolaus shook himself and went back across the chamber  
to find Hercules snapping chains to free the prisoners. Most of  
them were barely conscious, too confused to realize they were  
being released. They all had multiple bite wounds in the neck,  
their arms. The strygoi hadn't wanted to turn these people; they  
were here as a food supply, as cattle to provide the other strygoi  
with blood. Iolaus knew he should help Hercules, but the smell of  
all the fresh blood.... He didn't feel out of control, as if he  
was going to attack anybody -- that murderous impulse seemed to be  
reserved for other strygoi -- but he turned away, passing a hand  
over his face to conceal his expression.   
  
He could get used to the claws and seeing in the dark, he could  
get used to the extra stamina, he could even get used to the  
frigging teeth if he tried hard enough, but he couldn't get used  
to the blood-drinking part. _I don't want to get used to it._   
If his stomach started to growl--  
  
He sensed Hercules step up behind him, just before the demigod  
rested his hands on Iolaus' shoulders. "You all right?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah, just...having a moment." He shook his head, turning  
around. "What are we doing?"  
  
"I found Galen's sister."  
  
***  
  
  
  
"I was travelling to Varna to meet my brother," Vela explained,  
speaking Greek with an accent. Galen's sister had dark eyes, long  
dark hair and creamy white skin, marred only by bruises and the  
bite wounds on her arms.   
  
They were sitting in the archway at the bottom of the stairs,  
where they could listen for any approaching strygoi. Hercules sat  
on the steps next to her but Iolaus perched on the rocks a few  
feet away. Being around Hercules already gave him enough issues;  
the combination of blood scent and beautiful woman was almost too  
much for his concentration. Vela continued, "I was staying at the  
inn at Bistritz when the strygoi attacks started. I fled with the  
others to the fortress, but as you see, it was a trap."  
  
She rubbed her arms and shivered, looking over at the other  
Dacians. Hercules had found a small well near the far wall and  
the prisoners who were able to walk were carrying water to those  
still too weak to move. It would help, but it wouldn't be enough.   
These people needed food, blankets, healers. These were the  
farmers and artisans whose labor supplied the nobility's castles  
and whose sons filled the ranks of the Dacian armies. And in  
return they had been tricked into coming here for shelter and been  
betrayed to the strygoi.  
  
After one brief glance Iolaus looked away. They had to realize  
what he was; perhaps they were so glad to be free of the chains  
that they didn't care who had rescued them.  
  
Vela turned back to Hercules and said, "When they locked the  
others in here I managed to slip away in the confusion, but the  
way up into the rest of the castle was guarded and I couldn't get  
out." She absently picked at a bite wound on her arm. "My  
brother had told me that strygoi slept during the day and I  
thought if I could find them, kill Dracul while he was  
helpless...."  
  
"It was a good thought," Hercules said, watching her. It was, in  
fact, what they had planned to do themselves. "I take it it  
didn't work out that way?"  
  
She shook her head, her mouth twisting ruefully. "They slept, but  
they weren't helpless."   
  
_There goes plan alpha,_ Iolaus thought, exchanging a troubled  
look with Hercules.  
  
She said, "I found a large cave on the lowest level. It looked  
like a dungeon, but there were war banners hung on the walls and a  
chair like a throne, as if it was an audience hall. No one was  
there, but a passage led off from it to the crypts, so I went down  
it."  
  
Hercules flicked a glance at Iolaus, who answered with a half-  
lifted brow. Guts and stubborn impetuousness obviously ran in  
Galen's family.  
  
"I found Dracul sleeping in a crypt but when I tried to drive the  
stake through his heart he woke." Vela shivered at some memory  
her story had too vividly conjured. "He threw me against a wall  
and knocked me out. When I came back to myself two of the others  
were dragging me back here."  
  
"Can you tell us where that room was?" Hercules asked.  
  
She nodded. "Of course."  
  
Hercules looked thoughtful and Iolaus rolled his eyes. He knew  
what that look meant. "Herc," he said deliberately. "Can we  
talk?"  
  
"Hmm?" Hercules glanced up, distracted. "Oh." He smiled  
reassuringly at a puzzled Vela and stood.  
  
They retreated a few steps away to the far side of a pillar.   
Iolaus said, "You can't walk in there. They'll be waiting for  
that!"  
  
"I know." Hercules nodded with calm determination. "We walked  
into his trap once, we're not going to do it again." He planted  
his hands on his hips, a speculative frown on his face. "We need  
to make him come to us. If I could--"  
  
Iolaus' brows lifted. "Let me do it. It's perfect. They think  
I'm one of them." In case there was any doubt, he added, "Which  
I'm not."  
  
Hercules grimaced. "I know that, but--"  
  
"But what?" Iolaus asked. Almost against his will, he found  
himself adding, "Don't you trust me?" He wasn't sure he wanted to  
know the answer to that one. Hercules had said he knew he could  
trust him, but that was before the claws and being able to smell  
human blood in the air.  
  
Hercules squeezed his shoulder. "It's not you that I'm worried  
about."  
  
Somewhat reassured, Iolaus persisted, "Look, they did this to me  
to get to you. I've got a right to do this."  
  
Hercules glared at him, but it was the expression he usually got  
when he couldn't think of a better argument. Finally he let his  
breath out in resignation. "All right." He gestured helplessly.   
"Just--"  
  
"I know." Iolaus nodded with grim resolve. "Believe me, I know."  
  
Hercules left Vela in charge of the refugees with instructions to  
block the door after he and Iolaus departed. If enough time  
passed where she thought it must be morning and they still hadn't  
returned, she was to lead the others out of the castle and try to  
make for the nearest town. One man had demanded, "Why? Why  
should we do this? Why not leave now?"   
  
Already on edge, Iolaus had looked at him and snarled, "Because he  
said so."  
  
There hadn't been any other objections.  
  
***   
  
  
...continued in part 2 


	3. Conclusion

Darkness Visible  
by Martha Wilson  
  
Part 3  
  
  
***  
  
Iolaus set out while Hercules was still working on his part of the  
trap, but the timing was tight. There had to be enough remaining  
of the night that the strygoi would be willing to venture up into  
the higher parts of the fortress, but not too much, or he and  
Hercules would just end up handing themselves to Dracul on a  
platter.  
  
Following Vela's directions, Iolaus found the stairs down to the  
lowest depth of the fortress and the long straight passage that  
led toward the crypts.   
  
It ended in a big dim chamber, lit by dozens of candles. The  
pillars were all carved into forbidding figures that could only be  
different Dacian representations of Death. _This has got to be  
the place,_ Iolaus thought as he paused at the entrance. The  
flickering light seemed to sink into the walls and curved ceiling  
of rough natural stone, throwing back no reflections. He could  
hear the undead, moving in the shadows like rats.   
The floor had been covered with dark polished tile and the dead  
strygoi Iolaus dragged along by one foot slid across it easily.   
It and two others had been guarding the top of the passage and he  
had decided this was as good a way to announce his appearance as  
any.  
  
As he moved further in he saw the man seated in the elaborately  
carved wooden chair at the far end of the room. Dracul. Vlad was  
standing at his right hand and Iolaus felt a snarl building in his  
throat. The throne was framed by the archway that must lead to  
the crypts; cold air heavy with the scent of old death streamed  
from it, making the candles flicker and the warbanners gently  
ripple.  
  
He counted seven men with the symbols of the Dacian Royal Guard on  
their leather armor gathered around the throne; they must be all  
that remained of those who had accompanied Vlad here from Navari.   
Like the one they had found with the refugees, these men were  
strygoi but not undead. Galen was standing with them. His face  
had a greenish cast and he didn't look well, as if he was still  
trying to resist the strygoi infection. _All right, for his  
sister's sake, I'll try not to kill him._ Everybody else  
definitely had to go. Mattias, now a strygoi too, stood near the  
throne. There was no telling if his current condition was reward  
or punishment.   
  
Iolaus halted, dumping the dead strygoi. He had everyone's  
attention.   
  
Dracul broke the silence, saying, "You said he was dead."  
  
"I thought he was," Vlad replied, studying Iolaus with a faint  
puzzled expression. "I couldn't reach him."  
  
"I heard you," Iolaus told him, truthfully enough. "I just didn't  
feel like listening." Stifling his urge to fling himself at  
Vlad's throat took up a terrible amount of his self-control.  
  
Dracul ignored him, slanting a heavy-lidded glance at his son.   
"You did not tell me he was this strong."  
  
Iolaus rolled his eyes and folded his arms, looking away with  
pretend indifference. All these strygoi, so close, were setting  
his nerves on fire. _Gods, this is driving me nuts. I just want  
to kill something._ His teeth and claws were fully extended and  
he couldn't have retracted them to save his life. "When you're  
done discussing it, I'll be right here."   
  
Dracul pushed to his feet, pacing slowly towards Iolaus. He was  
big, Vlad's size, and though there was gray in his hair and beard,  
he moved with an arrogant animal grace. As if only casually  
interested in the answer, he asked, "You escaped from Hercules?"  
  
Iolaus flicked a glance at Vlad, not sure how much he had seen  
from the balcony. While it would be entertaining to weave a story  
about how he had overpowered Hercules and escaped, it was better  
to stay on the safe side. "He let me go. He's sentimental that  
way."  
  
Dracul stopped a bare pace away, staring down at him with  
speculative interest. There was something in there besides a  
wicked old man, Iolaus could smell it. Something ageless and  
hungry and evil. He didn't want to think about how evil a man had  
to be, to turn into a strygoi simply by force of personality.   
Iolaus lifted his chin, baring his teeth in a challenging grin.   
  
Dracul moved suddenly, grabbing a handful of Iolaus' hair and  
yanking him forward, half-lifting him off his feet. Iolaus  
snarled and flexed his claws but didn't struggle, though it  
stretched his already strained self-control to the limit. If  
Dracul wasn't interested in what he had to say, he knew he was  
dead.  
  
"You've fed," Dracul said, still in the same thoughtful tone. "On  
whom?"  
  
"I didn't get his name," Iolaus said through gritted teeth.   
  
"Answer me."   
  
The grip on his hair tightened, pulling his head back further and  
putting painful pressure on his neck, but the smartass remark had  
given him a chance to think. "Some peasant. He'd been bitten  
before and he had chains on his wrists, like he was locked up  
somewhere."  
  
The flicker in Dracul's eyes told Iolaus the old man accepted the  
answer. "You are different," Dracul said, still studying him.   
"A fledgling strygoi should be weak, easily manipulated.   
Unaccustomed to this new state of being."  
  
Iolaus tried not to take that personally. "Maybe I've had  
practice with new states of being."  
  
From behind Dracul, Vlad said slowly, "There was a rumor...he was  
killed and Hercules had him restored to life."  
  
Dracul acknowledged that with a lifted brow. He said to Iolaus,  
"So you've come to join us. Why?"  
  
"I don't have a choice. What else am I going to do?" The genuine  
bitter resentment Iolaus felt gave that the ring of truth, though  
he mentally added, _Except kill you._   
  
"Don't trust him." It was Galen, speaking as if the words had  
been choked out of him.  
  
_That's it, you're dead too, Galen,_ Iolaus thought. Before  
anybody could think too much about that, he said, "I know where  
Hercules is. I can lead you to him."  
  
The greedy light in Dracul's eyes betrayed him. Whatever was in  
there, Iolaus had figured it would be greedy. And greedy things,  
whatever they were, became incautious when what they wanted seemed  
to be within their reach. "Very well." He released Iolaus,  
stepping back to address the others. "Everything is exactly as I  
planned. Soon our ranks will swell by the hundreds, the  
thousands. But first, I will destroy Hercules."  
  
The other strygoi raised a cheer. Iolaus just smiled, thinking,  
_I've heard that before._  
  
***  
  
  
Leading Dracul and the others back up through the fortress made  
Iolaus wish he was in the middle of a battle. Troy, maybe, with a  
burning wooden horse about to fall on him. There were too many  
things that could go wrong, too many moments for Dracul to realize  
this was a trap.  
  
As they reached the corridor where the hidden stair was, Iolaus'  
nerves jumped in earnest. There was no way to avoid it; this was  
the only way into the upper part of the fortress. He had a long  
list of Things That Could Go Wrong at this point, anywhere from  
Vela not being able to keep some idiot from trying to leave, to  
the strygoi deciding to stop for a snack, to Dracul somehow  
sensing that the stair mechanism had been temporarily jammed with  
a few yards of chain.   
  
As they neared the entrance, Iolaus couldn't stand the tension  
anymore and had to relieve it. He said to Vlad, "Why did you  
really bring us here? What did you want from Hercules?"  
  
Vlad pressed his lips together and flicked an expressionless  
glance at his father. Behind them, one of the other strygoi  
hissed, but Iolaus ignored it. Without looking at them, Dracul  
lifted a brow and replied, "A demigod's blood will be powerful.   
No strygoi has ever tasted such before."  
  
"Oh." They were safely past the entrance to the concealed  
stairway, but now Iolaus had something else to worry about.   
_Never, huh? Well, just the once. Dammit, I knew it was a bad  
idea._  
  
He noticed Vlad was still eyeing him and glared. Unperturbed,  
Vlad said, "It's difficult to believe you would betray Hercules.   
Even as a strygoi."  
  
"It was difficult to believe you betrayed me," Iolaus retorted.   
"But you did."  
  
His face still closed and enigmatic, Vlad looked at Dracul again,  
striding ahead of them. He said to Iolaus, "I turned you; you  
should be under my control. How did you resist my compulsion?"  
  
Iolaus stared at him, wondering if there was anything behind the  
question. If Vlad did have some access to his thoughts, this plan  
was toast and he and Hercules were both worse than dead. But he  
just didn't think there was anybody in his head but him. Watching  
Vlad cautiously, he said, "I just had to want it hard enough."  
  
Dracul looked back then and Iolaus decided to keep his mouth shut  
for a while.  
  
They were nearing the spot, a place where the corridor narrowed  
just before it opened into a large round tower room. A stairwell  
into the upper part of the fortress lay just beyond it.  
  
"It's near dawn," Vlad said suddenly, making Iolaus jump. "If we-  
-"  
  
"Silence," Dracul ordered. "There are no windows in this tower so  
we can pass without trouble--" He paused suddenly. "He's there,  
not far ahead." He glanced back at Iolaus, lifting a brow. "You  
will be rewarded."  
  
"That's what I'm aiming for," Iolaus assured him. _But not by  
you._  
  
Dracul strode forward swiftly down the passage.  
  
Iolaus followed with Vlad and just as they stepped within the  
narrow passage he heard Hercules shout. Iolaus turned and slammed  
into Vlad with his shoulder, knocking the larger man out of the  
passage and back into the wider corridor. They rammed into Galen  
and another confused strygoi, knocking them aside. As they hit  
the ground stone and broken beams crashed down in a cloud of dust.  
  
***  
  
  
The fall of stone had neatly sealed the small passage, locking the  
other strygoi out and Dracul in. Hercules, from a ledge halfway  
up the wall of the high tower room, had knocked out the prop that  
was all that supported the ceiling of the passage; the  
architectural rearrangements had taken him the rest of the night  
to make. As the dust settled, he leapt down from the ledge,  
landing several paces away from Dracul. The other doorway was  
blocked with a few heavy stones he had carried in from outside.  
  
Dracul stared at the blocked doorways, then turned slowly,  
smiling. "You think this will help you?" He barred his fangs,  
the confident smile becoming a predatory grin. "You should have  
left when you had the opportunity."  
  
Hercules hefted the boar spear he held. It was the best one he  
had found up in the living quarters, with a long blade on a heavy  
wooden shaft. He had chosen it for the quality of the wood rather  
than the steel. He said, "I'll be leaving soon enough. I just  
have to do something first."  
  
Dracul stalked forward. "Give in, Hercules. You can't possibly  
destroy me."  
  
Hercules allowed himself a grim smile. He swung the spear,  
driving Dracul back a pace as he stepped to the curved outer wall.   
"I've heard that before."  
  
Dracul made an abortive movement, then hesitated. Hercules  
correctly read the flicker of startled anger that crossed his face  
and nodded in satisfaction. "Galen was right. You can't change  
shape after daylight." He turned and slammed a punch into the  
wall behind him. Stone exploded outward and as the dust cleared  
the graying sky was visible, the first gold light of dawn just  
touching the mountain peaks.  
  
***  
  
  
  
Iolaus rolled over, shaking the dust out of his hair, and saw Vlad  
crouched against the opposite wall staring blankly at the blocked  
passage. He looked at Iolaus, saying in shock, "You--"  
  
Iolaus grinned at him. "Surprise."  
  
Vlad started to push to his feet. "And I thought you disliked  
surprises."  
  
"Not when they're on you."  
  
Vlad lunged forward and Iolaus caught him in the chin with a kick,  
sending him falling back. Iolaus leapt up, moving back into the  
wider part of the corridor as Vlad regained his feet and came for  
him.  
  
Vlad halted suddenly and Iolaus bounced impatiently on his heels,  
waiting for the next attack. The others were starting to stagger  
upright and much as Iolaus would have liked to stay and see how  
many of them he could take, he wanted to get to Hercules. Vlad  
suddenly reeled away, falling against the wall. "Go," he grated,  
his face white with effort.   
  
Iolaus eyed him, wary of a trick. "What?"   
  
"Go," Vlad repeated. "I'll hold them back. I--" He shook his  
head, wincing, but couldn't seem to say more than that. With a  
growl, he pushed away from the wall, shoving an approaching  
strygoi back.  
  
Iolaus stared, then decided whether it was real or not, he  
couldn't afford not to take advantage of it. As he turned,  
Mattias stumbled to his feet and charged him. Iolaus slammed a  
punch into him, then darted down the passage and skidded around a  
corner into a side hall.  
  
There was a window at the end of it and he tore the dusty drapes  
aside and stepped up onto the sill. Cold wind tore at his hair as  
he paused, getting his bearings. The sky was gray with the faint  
radiance of the dawn and golden light outlined the peaks of the  
distant mountains. The curve of the tower hung out over the cliff  
here and directly below him a chasm opened, plunging away down  
into darkness. There was no ledge but Iolaus turned, working his  
claws into the gaps between the stones and swinging out into empty  
space. He found toeholds with the tips of his boots and pulled  
himself up, shaking the hair out of his eyes. With a tight grin,  
he thought, _So far so good...._  
  
He worked his way along as quickly as he could, buffeted by the  
cold wind. As he made it around the curve, he was relieved to see  
the large jagged hole in the wall ahead. He could hear fighting  
inside, thumps, crashes. _Then Galen was right._ If Dracul could  
still change shape, he would have been long gone by now.  
  
As he climbed determinedly toward the opening, Iolaus felt a  
burning sensation down his back that grew steadily more intense.   
_Uh oh._ He froze suddenly as the realization hit. _Strygoi.   
Sunlight._ The tower above him was turning gold with dawn light.  
  
He recklessly swung the last few feet, his claws slipping in the  
cracks and his boots skidding on the stone.   
  
Iolaus flung himself through the opening into the tower room,  
hitting the floor and rolling. Smoke puffed up from his clothes  
but he didn't feel too charred. Looking around wildly, he saw  
Hercules facing Dracul over by the far wall.   
  
"Iolaus, that's cutting it a little close," Hercules shouted,  
swinging the spear as Dracul ducked away.  
  
"You're telling me!" Iolaus scrambled to his feet.  
  
Dracul faced them, his strong features twisted into a snarl, gray  
hair flying, sharp teeth gleaming, more like an animal than  
anything human.  
  
"How's it going?" Iolaus asked Hercules. It didn't look so good.  
  
"Not so good," Hercules admitted as Dracul charged.  
  
They fought across the small room as the sun crept nearer the  
opening. Even if he couldn't turn into a puff of smoke, Dracul  
moved with blinding speed, and as a human he had been a vicious,  
experienced fighter. Now as a strygoi, he was nearly unstoppable.   
Hercules couldn't get a grip on him to use his strength and while  
Iolaus was fast, every time he got close enough to try to slow  
Dracul down, he got knocked nearly senseless.  
  
Then Dracul's claws slashed Hercules across the chest and the  
demigod managed to catch his arm, flinging him back against the  
wall. Iolaus went for the legs, miscalculated, and took a kick in  
the stomach that sent him flying across the room.  
  
Iolaus bounced off the wall and hit the floor. Shaking his head  
dazedly as he pushed himself up, he knew the force of that blow  
would have killed him if he had still been completely human. He  
looked up in time to see Hercules force Dracul back against the  
gaping hole in the wall. Past him Iolaus could see the lightening  
sky. In a few moments the dawn light would reach the opening.   
  
Dracul must have felt it too. With a growl of effort he twisted  
suddenly, turning and pulling Hercules off balance. Losing his  
grip on the spear, Hercules had to grab the stone at the edge of  
the gap to catch himself. As Iolaus shoved to his feet, Dracul  
smashed Hercules across the face, knocking him into the side of  
the opening. Suddenly the loosened stones gave way and the  
demigod fell back and out.  
  
Iolaus yelled in fury and fear and flung himself forward. With  
that inhuman speed Dracul moved, snatching up the spear and  
slamming the shaft across Iolaus' knees. He hit the ground,  
rolled over, and Dracul was right on top of him.  
  
The blade slammed down into Iolaus' chest and he curled up around  
it helplessly, instinctively grabbing the metal.   
  
For a heartbeat time seemed to freeze. He knew what being stabbed  
felt like -- the punch and the pressure, then the delayed rush of  
agony as air reached the torn flesh. But the pain didn't come;  
all he could feel was the force of the blade pushing into his  
body. _The metal can't kill me,_ he realized abruptly. Dracul  
was forcing the blade through to the wooden handle. That was when  
the agony would start. Time jolted back into movement, rushing  
headlong as Iolaus sunk his claws into the blade, desperate to  
force it back out.  
  
Dracul was just too strong, towering over him, bearing down on the  
shaft. Snarling, Iolaus fought frantically, kicking at Dracul,  
his claws scored the metal as it slipped through his grip.  
  
Barring his teeth as he smiled down at him, Dracul said, "You're  
fortunate. The sun rises, so I won't be able to prolong your  
death."  
  
Iolaus could see the light glowing against the far wall, turning  
the stone gold. The first edge of the wood shaft shoved past his  
skin and he didn't have the air for a last curse. It was like  
being stabbed with a red hot iron bar.   
  
He saw Hercules and thought it was a hallucination. Until the  
demigod seized Dracul and threw him against the wall, no more than  
ten paces from the pool of sunlight. Nearly blinded by pain,  
Iolaus managed to get a grip on the shaft, trying to push it out;  
it seemed lodged in his body. Dimly he saw Hercules lean over him  
and grab the spear. With one quick jerk he pulled it free.  
  
Iolaus collapsed on the stone, panting, shaking from shock, as  
weak as an unstrung puppet. He saw Dracul push to his feet and  
lunge toward Hercules, but he couldn't do more than gasp a  
warning.  
  
With an expression of grim concentration, Hercules flipped the  
spear and rammed the blade into Dracul's chest. He moved forward,  
driving the metal blade through his body and shoving the strygoi  
back against the stone wall. Iolaus struggled to stand, wanting  
to help, but he only managed to roll awkwardly to his knees.   
Dracul's growl turned into a shriek and he clawed for the demigod.   
Hercules shifted his weight and drove the blade into the wall.   
  
Dracul was pinned between the stone and the wooden shaft. He  
looked down, then up at Hercules, his lips drawing back in a  
rictus grin. "You missed the heart," he said, his voice grating.  
  
Hercules looked him in the eye. "I meant to."  
  
Dracul stared at him, then at the line of sunlight creeping slowly  
nearer as the sun cleared the mountain peaks.  
  
Iolaus gasped, the laugh turning into an outcry as his abraded  
lungs burned. Hercules had deliberately missed Dracul's heart to  
give Iolaus time to heal. If Dracul had been killed then, Iolaus  
would have turned back into a human with a hole in his chest and  
died instantly. _One of those times having a demigod -- a smart  
demigod -- around comes in handy,_ he thought, slumping back down  
and abandoning his attempt to stand.  
  
Dracul fought to push away from the wall, his growl scaling up to  
a howl of rage. Hercules ducked away from the clawing hands,  
still grimly holding the jerking shaft in place. "How're you  
doing, buddy?" he said through gritted teeth.   
  
"Fine," Iolaus told him faintly. He knew the demigod hadn't heard  
him but he didn't seem to have the air to make his voice louder.   
He looked down at the wound in his chest, unwillingly fascinated.   
The bloodless hole was slowly closing. He slid down, squinting  
painfully at the sunlight as it moved inexorably toward them.   
Strangely the room seemed darker as the sun filled it. Then as  
his head sunk to the floor he realized it was his vision that was  
going dark. He saw the edge of light touch Dracul's wildly  
flailing figure. Smoke and flame flared up, just before the  
blackness closed in.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Iolaus came to fighting with somebody and after a few frenzied  
moments realized the large person he had just kicked in the gut  
was Hercules. "What in Tartarus are you trying to do?" he  
demanded, shoving the demigod's arm away indignantly as he sat up.  
  
"I was looking at your teeth," Hercules said, sounding harassed.  
  
"Huh?" _Oh right, I'm a strygoi,_ Iolaus remembered. He  
couldn't remember much else, like how they had gotten here or what  
they were doing. Or where here was. It was a dark dank cold  
corridor, lit by a few torches, the walls banded with elaborate  
carvings but grimed with dust. He saw two doorways sealed with  
mortared blocks. _We're down in the crypts?_ That didn't seem  
like a particularly good place to be. He didn't feel dead, but  
his chest ached and his stomach was trying to crawl up his throat.   
He was covered in a cold sweat and had that feeling of standing  
just to one side of reality that a bad fever could cause. "What's  
going on?"   
  
"Nothing, just stay here." Hercules pulled a heavy wool cloak up  
over Iolaus' shoulders and pushed him back down.  
  
Ignoring this nonsensical statement, Iolaus sat up on an elbow and  
squinted at him. Hercules looked like Iolaus felt. His shirt and  
arms were scorched and stained with smoke and his chest scored  
with livid clawmarks and dried blood. Iolaus knew there had been  
a battle but he couldn't remember if they had won it or not.   
"What's going on?" he demanded. Hadn't he said that before?  
  
"Nothing," Hercules repeated grimly, "Stay here." The demigod  
pushed him back down against the wall.  
  
Unable to put up an effective resistance, Iolaus folded up and  
pretended to pass out again. Hercules stood over him a moment and  
Iolaus could practically feel skeptical eyes boring into him.   
Then he heard Hercules walk softly up the corridor.  
  
Iolaus sat up, bewildered and irritated and woozy. He shrugged  
off the cloak and pushed himself up, using the carving like a  
ladder to haul himself to his feet. Leaning heavily on the wall,  
he made his way slowly down the corridor in the direction Hercules  
had gone.   
  
He came to an open doorway with square blocks stacked neatly  
nearby, ready to be mortared into place. He paused, weaving  
slightly. The muted voices inside were familiar, but he couldn't  
quite place who they belonged to. He braced himself against the  
cold stone and peered in, squinting until his eyes adjusted to the  
dimmer interior.  
  
It was a tomb, the walls covered with smoke-stained paintings of  
Dacian warriors, shifting and fluid in the light of a few candles.   
There were other people there but he focused on Hercules, who was  
just lowering something down onto the central plinth.  
  
It was Dracul's body, charred black from the sunlight, the cut-off  
spear shaft still protruding from its chest. Hercules took a step  
back, wiping his hands off on his pants. "All right, what's  
next?" His voice was hard with distaste.  
  
Galen swayed forward out of the shadows to lean weakly against the  
plinth, saying, "Cut his head off and stuff his mouth with  
garlic."  
  
Hercules stared at him from under lowered brows. "You're  
kidding," he said flatly. His tone suggested Galen had better not  
be kidding.  
  
"What kind of sick bastard would make that up?" Galen countered  
wearily.  
  
Fascinated, Iolaus slid down the stone and stumbled off a step,  
barely catching himself before he tumbled headlong into the crypt.   
At the slight sound Hercules spun, spotted him, and had him by the  
arm, propelling him back down the corridor before he knew what had  
happened. He tried to drag his heels and grab a doorframe to slow  
their progress but it was useless. "What's going on?" he tried  
again.  
  
Hercules shoved him back down, pulling the cloak over him. "I'll  
explain later."  
  
Iolaus tried to sit up, but the brief exertion had sapped most of  
his strength. Frustrated, he demanded, "Am I alive, am I dead, am  
I next?"  
  
"No!" Exasperated, Hercules shook his head. "Just stay there."  
  
Someone else loomed into view behind the demigod and Iolaus was  
shocked to recognize Vlad.  
  
"Is he all right?" Vlad asked, glancing worriedly at Hercules.  
  
This gave Iolaus the energy to throw off the cloak and sit up,  
shouting, "You bit me, you son of a bitch!" He looked pointedly  
at Hercules. "Why is he alive?"  
  
Hercules inexorably shoved him back down. "I'll explain it to you  
later."  
  
Iolaus tried to sit up again but a wave of dizziness dropped him  
back to the floor without Hercules having to help. He knew he was  
fading out, but he still persisted, "When?"  
  
"When you're conscious."  
  
***  
  
  
Iolaus was dreaming of the crypts under the castle, of being  
trapped in those dark echoing passages. He kept finding doors but  
they were all filled in with heavy stone blocks. He blundered in  
the dark, the air growing hotter and thinner with each breath.   
Part of him knew that even airless these chambers deep under the  
castle would be cold; he knew he was confusing Dacia and Sumeria,  
but knowing it didn't help.  
  
He woke, flailing wildly. "Hey, hey. Take it easy, it's over."   
Hercules caught his shoulders and pushed him back down onto the  
bed.  
  
"Huh?" Iolaus stared at him, then tried to push his hands away  
and sit up but Hercules didn't budge. The dream still the most  
vivid image in his head, he said in confusion, "But I'm not dead."  
  
"I know," Hercules agreed reassuringly. "I was hoping you'd  
notice," he added, like it was a joke he expected Iolaus to get.  
  
"What?" Iolaus stared at him, still reflexively struggling to sit  
up.  
  
"Everything's all right," Hercules said, slowly and plainly.  
  
"Oh." Iolaus subsided. They were in the guest chamber up in the  
castle's living quarters; Iolaus recognized the awful tapestry and  
leering gargoyles. Seeing him calm again, Hercules ruffled his  
hair and got up from the bed.   
  
Listening to Hercules move around the room, Iolaus lay there in  
the nest of fur blankets, memories of the recent past coming back  
in bits and pieces. He still felt dizzy and somewhat distanced  
from reality, but the various aches and pains he remembered had  
faded. He rubbed his chest where Dracul had skewered him with the  
spear shaft. There wasn't even a scar, though his shirt was torn  
and bloody. Finally the need for more information overrode the  
urge to sink back into sleep. He rolled onto his side and propped  
his head on his arm, clearing his throat. "I had some weird dream  
that we were down in the crypts. Something about garlic...."  
  
"That was true." Hercules was kneeling at the hearth, feeding  
more wood into the fire. "According to Galen, it keeps strygoi  
from rising again."  
  
"Oh." Iolaus frowned. The decapitation part he could understand,  
but.... "Garlic?"  
  
"I have no idea, but it seemed to do the trick."   
  
Iolaus lay there a moment, trying to force his fuzzy brain to  
work. The room was cold despite the fire and the candles left  
shadowy corners he couldn't see into. His stomach was complaining  
about lack of food, but not seriously enough to worry him. Then  
all those things plus the realization that he couldn't sense the  
blood running through Hercules' veins suddenly came together. He  
sat bolt upright. "I'm human again!"  
  
Hercules glanced over at him, smiling faintly. "Uh huh."  
  
Iolaus swore and flopped back on the pillows, overcome by relief.  
  
Hercules nodded agreement. "That's what I said." He tossed the  
last log in and dusted off his hands. "It took a while for you to  
turn back. The others all recovered much more quickly. Galen  
thought it might have been because you used up most of your  
strength healing yourself right before Dracul died but," Hercules  
smiled wryly, getting to his feet, "I told him you always have to  
do things the hard way."  
  
"Funny," Iolaus muttered. He gingerly felt his teeth, then flexed  
his hands, trying to believe it. No claws, and no sign of any  
ever being there. He sat up again, pushing his hair out of his  
eyes. Hercules was standing at a table, looking at the contents  
of a couple of steaming earthenware pots with a critical  
expression. Iolaus supposed that was dinner, or maybe breakfast.   
Whatever it was, he hoped it didn't have garlic in it. Still  
trying to catch up on events, he asked, "So...what about Vlad?"  
  
Hercules eyed him a moment, then came back to sit on the edge of  
the bed. He admitted reluctantly, "He apologized and said that  
his life is yours."  
  
"He would, the bastard," Iolaus said sourly. After all that, it  
was terribly unfair of Vlad to head off Iolaus' just desire for  
vengeance by apologizing. _Typical._ He drew his knees up and  
propped his folded arms on them. "I'm glad Vlad wants to kiss and  
make up, but I think this is going to affect our future  
relationship." He peered suspiciously at Hercules, who was  
staring off at the ugly tapestry with a somber preoccupied  
expression. Something was wrong. Iolaus could tell. He couldn't  
think what it was; Hercules wouldn't have any reason to be  
depressed about what had happened. Some moments had looked pretty  
dark, but Dracul had been evil to the bone and killing him was a  
service the Dacians would be thankful for for generations. _Not  
to mention saving Vlad, damn him anyway, and Galen and Vela and  
all the others._ "What's wrong with you?"  
  
Hercules hesitated, then shook his head in agitation and said,  
"You told me to kill you because you didn't trust me to get you  
out of this."  
  
Iolaus stared at him. "What?"  
  
"You heard me."  
  
Exasperated, Iolaus flung his arms in the air. "I told you to  
kill me because I didn't want somebody using me against you --  
again! It didn't have anything to do with not trusting you."  
  
"Well, that's how I took it," Hercules said with some asperity,  
but Iolaus could tell he was more relieved than annoyed at the  
indignant denial.   
  
"All right, fine. I swear never to ask you to kill me again."  
  
Hercules stared at the ceiling as if asking it for patience.  
"Fine."  
  
"Okay." With the initial burst of defensiveness out of the way,  
Iolaus shifted uncomfortably. Now that he thought about it, he  
could see how Hercules might have taken it the wrong way. He said  
simply, "I'm sorry. That's not what it was about."  
  
"I know. I--" Hercules hesitated. Iolaus could see he was  
hovering on the edge of an apology. In Persia Iolaus had demanded  
Hercules limit his apologies to no more than one per day, and he  
was pretty sure the demigod had already used up his quota. He  
narrowed his eyes. Hercules gave him a mock glare back, and  
finished, "I know."   
  
***  
  
  
  
Galen had practically been standing in the courtyard with his pack  
in one hand and Vela in the other for the last day and a half, he  
was so ready to leave. Hercules couldn't have agreed more  
wholeheartedly. The castle felt more normal now; with people  
moving about it and the heavy window coverings pulled aside to let  
in the daylight, much of the oppressive atmosphere was gone. But  
when Iolaus insisted he was completely recovered and ready for the  
journey, Hercules was more than ready to see the last of the  
place.  
  
Vlad accompanied them down to the entrance hall and the leave-  
taking was a little strained on Iolaus' part. Hercules knew  
Iolaus would forgive their old friend eventually but it wasn't  
going to be overnight and he was glad Vlad seemed to realize that.  
  
The main doors to the big hall were open and dust motes floated on  
the bright morning sunlight as Hercules stopped to exchange a last  
arm-clasp with Vlad. The refugees had left earlier, equipped with  
food and blankets from the fortress' supplies and escorted by a  
troop of Dacian cavalry Vlad had sent for. The soldiers would  
make certain their villages had not been taken over by bandits in  
their owners' absence and report back if more help was needed.   
  
"I don't know how I can thank you, my friends, my comrades," Vlad  
said.  
  
He had said this at least three or four times but that was the old  
Vlad talking and Hercules was glad to hear it. Iolaus, standing  
with his arms folded over his scabbarded sword, just snorted  
derisively. "What are you going to do now?" Hercules asked Vlad,  
ignoring the editorial comment from his partner.  
  
Vlad gestured around, taking in the whole castle. "I'm going to  
abandon this fortress. I will mine the walls so it can't be used  
against me and leave it. Too many bad memories." He shook his  
head. "The dead can have it."  
  
"Still no sign of Mattias?" Hercules asked, not hopefully. If the  
chamberlain who had disappeared in the confusion of Dracul's death  
had been found, they surely would have heard.  
  
"None." Vlad spat in disgust. "If that filthy traitor wants to  
remain in this cursed place, he shall have his wish. But if I  
find him," he added cheerfully, "I'll shall cut off his head and  
send it to you."  
  
"You do that," Iolaus grunted.   
  
Leaving Vlad, they joined Vela and an impatiently grumbling Galen  
and went outside. Iolaus squinted up at the morning sun and took  
a deep breath in relief. The wind was brisk but the sun gleaned  
brightly off the drifted snow and the sky was a limitless blue; it  
would be a good day for travelling. As they started down the stone  
steps to the courtyard, he asked Hercules, "Why do these things  
keep happening to us?"  
  
Hercules gave a resigned shrug. It had been a hard couple of days  
and the deep philosophical questions were a little beyond him at  
the moment. "I don't know. Just another useless experience, I  
guess."  
  
Galen snorted. "You two should talk. At least I had a reason to  
come here, you guys just walked into it."  
  
"It's our job to walk into it," Hercules told him pointedly.   
  
"Yeah," Iolaus added forcefully. It was a little early in the  
morning for him to muster a better comeback than that, but  
Hercules was happy with it.  
  
"Yes, Galen." Vela gave her brother a fondly annoyed glance.   
"Just shut up."   
  
Galen bridled but grudgingly obeyed. "That's going to make the  
trip a little easier," Iolaus commented with a grin, settling his  
pack more comfortably on his shoulder.  
  
"Uh huh," Hercules agreed, smiling gratefully at Vela, his mood  
already improving. _Iolaus isn't dead or undead or any state  
between, we're leaving Dacia, and we have someone with us who can  
keep Galen quiet without punching him. Life is good._  
  
  
end  
  
  
http://www.rtis.com/nat/user/chimera/legends.htm  
The Less Than Legendary Journeys 


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